Passion or Phase?

Grace MacNeill
Sep 8, 2018 · 2 min read

I was in seventh grade. I don’t remember much, other than the blissful oblivion to junior high awkwardness and a surprising amount of friendships.

Sometimes I wonder how I managed with my capris, long socks, and the same sweatshirt day after day. We all can relate, I’m sure, in our own individual way. Some kids cared too much, others too little. Some were extroverted, while others were shy. But what did we talk about in classes? We seem to learn so much, only to find out later we cannot think of even a few facts that were discussed. I believe the memories from younger times reflect on who we become.

One of these occasions was in Ms. Howard’s class. She would eventually become Mrs. Dallahite, as she was marrying the science teacher’s brother (but that’s beside the point). She taught one of the World History classes at school. I distinctly remember building a gingerbread house for a Japanese palace, but unfortunately the grandeur of the building was not properly displayed. It looked more like a kindergarten project made at Christmastime. I do not remember the significance of the building, only the sagging frosting from an even more desperate graham crackers.

Only one time do I recall being enthralled by content of was being learned: Pompeii. All those lives lost, so much destruction, pain, and terror. When the volcano erupted, the people below didn’t stand a chance. I can still, in my head, see the page of the textbook showed a perfectly preserved loaf of bread over a thousand years later.

In the article titled Pompeii: an Ancient City, Wilhelmina Feemster Jashemski talks about the incredible preservation after the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Archeologists worked to uncover the city for over thirty years, revealing buildings, roads, and everyday objects strewn about the street. The most incredible find, however, were cavities in the ground of the Pampeii citizens themselves. They were able to fill the cavities in the earth with plaster to expose perfect likeness of the people, in the exact position they were in at the time disaster struck. It absolutely breaks my heart to think of that moment.

All I can think about are the lives in this mysterious city. Even the pictures seem quiet and somber; I can’t imagine how I would feel walking them in person. Someday, I hope to find out. Who knew that the girl in her seventh-grade classroom would grow more inspired through the years. While some things come and go, such as capris and crew socks, other aspects linger. I am fascinated to think about how much we stay the same, and look back to find our passions were evident then. I am passionate for people, and want to know more about the lives lived in the past.

Grace MacNeill

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